


Dreams of an average death

by Supertights



Category: Marvel (Comics), New Warriors, X-Men (Comicverse)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Depression, Falling In Love, Grief/Mourning, Hand Jobs, M/M, Mild Language, Mildly Dubious Consent, Not Beta Read, Not Canon Compliant, Not Quite Gen, Secret Relationship, Sharing a Room, Superheroes, Telekinesis, Telepathy, Utopia, Wordcount: 1.000-3.000, au bingo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-05
Updated: 2011-02-05
Packaged: 2017-11-23 21:53:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/626912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Supertights/pseuds/Supertights
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Utopia isn't all it's cracked up to be but sometimes a mutant just needs a place to hide and lick his wounds.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dreams of an average death

**Author's Note:**

> This is unbetaed. Definitely AU. Ten snapshots of life for Justice after Nova's death. This was one square on my 2011 AU Bingo card.

**i.**

Vance sat on the bluff overlooking the city. As the day grew longer, the colder it became, and he turned the collar up on his borrowed jacket to fend off the chill, his fingers catching in the chain around his neck. He pulled it out, rubbing the ring threaded onto it, then raised it to his lips and tucked it back under his shirt. It was cold to the touch, icy against his skin. He willed it to return to life but nothing happened.

A hand stroked along his shoulder, unwelcome and he twitched it away.

"You okay?" she asked. Angel, his only link to sanity on this godforsaken rock. "He promised he'd visit." She sounded bored, like she'd said it a hundred times before even though she hadn't. "He keeps his promises."

"He's dead." It was the first time he'd said that out loud, and he shivered, something inside him brimming to the surface, threatening to overflow. He didn't want to lose it in front of her though.

Angel sighed. "Now you're just being overdramatic. Rich's been held up. That's all."

"His brother called me from deep space. He's dead." He could've told her how, the reasons behind Rich's decision to go into that last battle, anything to try and soften the words but he just didn't care anymore.

"Fuck." She sat heavily next to him, sniffling noisily. " _Fuck!_ "

"My sentiments exactly," he whispered loud enough for only his ears.

  
**ii.**

The shower was cold again but it didn't matter, he shed the water from his body telekinetically and dressed, walking slowly back to his room. He avoided looking at anyone until he opened the door and then it was simply unavoidable.

Nathan Grey was hovering in the air, eyes closed, barefoot and shirtless. His larger than life presence taking up all the available space.

"Coming through," muttered Vance, ducking past the other telekinetic. He picked up the jacket from Nate's bed and slung it around his shoulders, shivering.

"Your aura is murky today." The shaman's voice was serene. He still hadn't opened his eyes.

"And yet I just had a shower." Water trickled down Vance's back from his wet hair, causing the thin shirt he was wearing to cling to his skin uncomfortably.

Nate unfolded his legs and stepped down, running a finger across the air in front of Vance's face, showing him. "See, murky."

  
**iii.**

He caught a glimpse of Angel in the dining hall, she looked happy, sitting with Dani and her friends from the New Mutants. He turned away before she could see him, call to him maybe, invite him into that excess of positive emotion.

"She looks happy," murmured Nate, appearing at Vance's elbow so stealthily as to make the other man jump. "Don't you think?"

"Stop doing that," Vance hissed. "And stop using your damn powers on me."

Nate smiled wickedly, pulling an apple from the pocket of his jacket and biting into it. "Where's the fun in that, Roomie?"

  
**iv.**

The scientists turned to look at the three resident telekinetics as one. Scrutinising them with especially calculating looks, they turned away again for a minute and whispered furiously amongst themselves before moving apart.

"We need to see if you can work together." Doctor Nemesis looked just ever so slightly malicious when he said it. "In the event we ever want you to cooperate on something important..."

"Don't believe him," whispered Nate to Vance. "He's got a twenty riding on us dumping the whole thing in the ocean."

"I do not," said Nemesis. "That would be cheap."

"It's a fifty." Madison Jeffries stepped back with a nervous grin, hands held up defensively when Nemesis glared at him.

"Double or nothing says we manage it," said Nate, then to Vance, he added under his breath, "Spot me a hundred? I'm good for it."

"You don't even own a pair of shoes."

"There's no way we can pull this off," muttered Julian, behind them. His mechanical hands twitched, fed by his irritation.

"Sure we can," said Nate. "If you two don't pull your weight, you'll both be picking up paperclips from the bottom of the Bay, and loving it, for the rest of the week."

  
**v.**

Vance floated above the island, high enough that the other mutants walking around looked like ants.

"It's nice up here, quiet," said Nate, tugging at his cape playfully.

"It _was_ ," said Vance, frowning.

"You spend too much time alone. It's not healthy."

"It's hard to be alone anywhere on Utopia," he reminded the shaman. "There's no privacy at all. _Especially_ since you made me your pet project."

"Please. You're a hobby at most, like knitting." Nate made a noise, waving away Vance's complaint. "Try shutting out a hundred minds, a thousand, tens of thousands. Then you know what it's like to suffer no privacy."

  
**vi.**

He woke clutching the chain around his neck, it was tight and a thread of blood had dripped down his shoulder, a spot of red drying on the sheets.

Letting go reluctantly, he rubbed at the deep indent cut into his palm, sighing.

Climbing down from the top bunk, he looked for Nate but the other telekinetic was gone, his bunk unmade, the single blanket pooling untidily on the floor. He sat on the edge of Nate's bunk and folded the blanket neatly in his arms; curling up, pressing his nose into Nate's ozone-like smell on the pillow. His eyes closed for a second.

"Comfortable?" purred Nate, waking him from a deep, dreamless sleep, bent over a little too close for comfort.

"Very." Vance scowled and sat back against the wall. Nate crawled in to sit next to him, hip to hip.

"Coffee?" Nate passed him a cup, lukewarm but strong and sweet.

"Thanks," he said, wanting to edge away from the warm body next to him and flee, but Nate's hand was on his knee, tapping out a tune only he could hear.

"Don't mention it."

  
**vii.**

In the time since he'd arrived on Utopia, he'd spoken to Cyclops a total of one time, Emma Frost at his side, it had been a brief thanks for joining the cause, mutants are doomed so get breeding kind of thing that lasted maybe one minute.

"Do you have a minute?"

"Another one?" He looked up from his meal and set down the book he'd been reading as he ate. "Of course."

Cyclops smiled as he sat opposite Vance, a nervous tic fluttering at the edges of his expression. "You share a room with Nate." It wasn't a question.

"So does Doug Ramsey," he reminded him.

"Rumour has it that Doug is bunking elsewhere most nights now."

Vance shrugged. He'd heard the same rumours about Doug, who was he to judge.

"I just want to know if Nate is--" Cyclops hesitated for a second.

"Sane?" suggested Vance.

"Happy. I hear things. What he's getting up too? I'm worried. I am-- sort of his father, it's my duty to care."

"A father's duty--" He pondered that for a few seconds, why some fathers made it a duty to care about their children instead of-- What did it matter anyway? "Perhaps you should worry less about rumours and just ask him how he's doing?"

"Maybe." Cyclops stood up and left.

Vance picked up his book and began reading again, pushing what was left of his meal away.

"Sane?" Nate smiled at him innocently at first then darker as his mood morphed. " _Am_  I sane, Vance? Am I happy? For that matter, are you happy? Are _you_ sane?"

He put the book down again with a sigh. "Nate. Maybe you should go and talk to your-- whatever Cyclops is to you. Tell him something, anything; lie if you have too but I don't want him asking me for your emotional temperature again."

"Fair enough. You eating this?" Nate asked through a mouthful of food.

  
**viii.**

He was lying on his back, arms behind his head, staring at the ceiling when Nate stumbled in during the early hours.

"Your brain, switch it off, too noisy," grumbled Nate as he fell into his bunk with a happy grunt.

Vance sighed and turned over, towards the wall. "I don't think you should you be drinking. A drunken telepathic telekinetic can't be a good thing."

"Says you." Standing up again, Nate wobbled at the edge of the bunk, holding onto it. "It's easy. Click-- off it goes." He reached out to poke Vance's shoulder. "Look at me."

He slapped Nate's finger away mentally, and fixing his gaze on the wall, he willed his roommate to fall asleep.

"Not working, not that drunk, not that tired. Trust me, I just--" He paused in that telltale, contemplating-vomiting kind of way. "--want to help," he finished a second later.

Turning over, Vance looked at Nate who grinned and reached out to hug him awkwardly, almost pulling him out of the top bunk. Vance gave up fighting it after a few seconds and just submitted to the embrace.

"See," said Nate, yawning and crawling fully clothed into his bunk.

"In your dreams."

"Maybe you will be," came the mumble from beneath.

Lying on his back again, he looked at the ceiling, his eyes felt heavier as he drifted to sleep, a smile lifting the corners of his mouth.

Nate laughed softly in his sleep and murmured, "Click, off it goes."

  
**ix.**

Nate paused in the doorway. "You could come with us?" he said.

"I don't really..." Vance left off answering. What was he going to say? Socialise, drink, dance, have fun? All things he'd loved doing with Rich and Robbie and the other New Warriors. His hand sought the ring beneath his t-shirt but another hand stopped it.

"Come with me then. Live life just for a little while again." Nate's eyes held his for a moment then he released his hand. "Before you fade away completely."

"I--"

"Don't think about it, just get dressed." Nate smiled at him, lopsidedly, almost apologetically. "Before you talk yourself out of it."

 

  
The club was deafening and hot, flashing lights were giving him a headache and his beer was getting warm in his hand, condensation trickling over his fingers. Nate leaned closer, his lips brushing across Vance's ear. "Dance with me."

He was watching Jean Paul, Megan and Ali dance together. Centre of attention, all eyes on them. Everyone here was a mutant or at least not entirely human. He'd been scanned on entry, a unique experience to visit a place where he was the norm and not the exception.

Vance shook his head. Baby steps had gotten him off the island but they weren't getting him out onto the dance floor.

"C'mon, what will it hurt, sweat a little, lose yourself in the music." Nate's voice was so convincing, too convincing.

"Stop that," he said without malice, raising the bottle and draining it. He felt pleasantly unhinged.

"Stop what?" Nate laughed. "Asking you to dance with me?"

"Trying to make me do what you want all the time." He licked his lips. "Maybe I would've danced with you without the nudge."

"What nudge? You're getting paranoid."

Nate stood up and grabbed his hand, pulling him out onto the floor. It felt wrong, to enjoy dancing again, with someone other than Rich.

He was walking a thin mental line when Nate moved closer and mouthed, "Are you okay?"

He shook his head, needed air, needed to breathe.

Sliding his hand through Vance's arm, Nate dragged him out into the cool night, walking down the street, away from the club. Vance stumbled and fell against him.

"Sorry," he muttered. Then he lost his mind for a while, coming back when Nate laid a palm along his cheek and called his name a few times. He blinked, the skin on his face and around his eyes burned, and his chest felt tight and each breath shallow and fast. There was an arm around his waist and they were in the air, high enough to bring a chill and puff of steam with each exhale.

"Where are we?" he asked, wiping away a tear that had strayed.

"A minute or two from the island," said Nate. He smiled kindly at him then asked, "What does it mean, we dreamed of an average death?"

Vance laid his head on Nate's shoulder, weary to the bone. "I don't know," he lied.

"It's something you said when you were distressed," he pursed his lips. "Remember the day I said your aura looked murky? It doesn't look murky anymore, it looks..." He fell quiet without finishing the sentence, his eyes concerned.

They walked together through the silent dark halls and tunnels of Utopia back to their room where Vance sat on Nate's bunk, head in his hands. "I don't know what to do any more."

"I do," said Nate confidently. He crouched in front of Vance, reaching out to stroke his face. "Promise it won't hurt."

Looking up, Vance murmured, "Promise?"

"Promise." He lifted Vance's chin with a finger, leaning forward to kiss him. Softly at first, until Vance responded with a stifled sob. He stroked Vance's back, rubbing up and down his spine, feeling out each knob beneath the thin shirt.

"We're not having sex," said Vance faintly, as they undressed without turning on the light.

"I wasn't asking."

Lying naked, side by side, on his bunk, they kissed again; exploring the taste and texture of each other for a long time until Nate touched the ring, frowning at how icy it was despite the body heat they were giving off.

"Why is it so cold?" he asked.

Ignoring the question, Vance reached down to cup to Nate's erection, seeking to distract him. He caressed it slowly at first, eliciting moans of pure pleasure from Nate as he thrust with each stroke until he orgasmed with a low cry, shuddering. He sought a kiss from Vance and moved to return the intimacy, his fingers tracing lines along the under side of Vance's cock but Vance stopped him, holding his wrist in place.

"Nate?" Vance's voice was barely above a whisper.

"I _know_. We're not having sex," said Nate with a Cheshire grin, a flash of white teeth against the dark.

"Obviously." Vance chuckled, a ghost of his old self surfacing for a moment. "No, I... you're possibly the only friend I have here. I don't know if I can afford to lose that."

"When you and Rich became lovers, did you stop being friends?" When no answer came, he kissed Vance again, leaving marks on his cheek as his fingers pressed in tightly, tongue sliding along his teeth and sucking on his lip. "You're not going to forget him because you're with me," he murmured, resting his forehead against Vance's. "But I want you to remember what it was like to be alive."

Nodding, Vance released his hand and Nate finished what he'd started, bringing Vance to climax with a cry he muffled into Nate's shoulder.

"I just-- I need time," he said a few minutes later, turning over, away from Nate. "It's too soon."

He shuddered and Nate realised he was grieving. "I can wait," he replied gently, turning to spoon him from behind, stroking Vance's side. "There's no rush."

  
**x.**

Nate touched the chain and picked up the ring, studying the inscription before letting it lie back down on Vance's chest. "It's still cold."

"I'm not taking it off." Vance put his hand over it, clutching it tightly, defensively.

"I didn't ask you too." Nate looked at him, head tilted slightly. He reached out to snag the hand, ring and all, and raised it to his lips.

"Stop that," said Vance. They were leaning on the rail, watching the boat come in with supplies.

"Why?" Nate's arm slipped around his waist, drawing him closer.

"Because."

"Okay." Nate hummed softly, then said. "I can wait. Forever if I have to."

 

_FIN._

**Author's Note:**

> It's intended that this occur over the course of at least six months or more. The ring mentioned in this fic appeared in another story - it was a living connection between two people that Richie got from an space witch at an alien car boot sale.
> 
> Disclaimer: I neither own nor profit from the use of these characters.


End file.
